9. Nine
Nine
8-27-2024
I didn't fail.
-Sam
It stinks. The salt from the sea overpowers any other scent that might waft through the air.
It’s not her.
I pause by the door with her name printed across the hanging sign. She hasn’t left the room once since this morning. I tilt my head curiously, trying to hear any rustling or movement, but I find none. Today has turned out to be more than I could have bargained for. If I had known that food would loosen her tongue, I would have bought a whole buffet by now. She talked about minor things, but they’re just what I need to get a lead. Still, I want more.
I raise my hand, my knuckles hovering over the barrier. I need to see how her eyes squint when she discusses something she enjoys again. I want to feel her pulse when she admits her fears. Shaking my head, I slide the black mask through the small opening at the bottom and head steadily toward the boat's common area. Even though I’m riding a high, I still hit a low.
My favorite colors and smells aren’t things I think about daily. Most of the time, my mind is focused only on her or being a soldier, but at that moment, I felt… relaxed . So much so that I can’t tell you what time our meal arrived. I can’t remember if Jimmy walked across the landing pad at the same time as he did the morning before. I can’t recall anything except how the breeze pushed stray hairs across her face that I desperately wanted to touch—and that she didn’t correct me when I said our last name.
I let my guard down.
“Stop cheating! It’s just cards!” Moe yells, and a pillow flies into Caspian's face, pulling me out of my thoughts as I step into the area.
I laugh and let the boat’s sway close the door behind me.
“You want some, too?!” Moe snaps in my direction.
“What I want is a drink,” I grumble as I head toward the small bar area.
Cas went all out on this ship for Sharkie, making sure it was the best his money could buy while still being comfortable. Thankfully, he also included essentials for the crew. I reach over the island and rummage through the glasses. After the way the last two days have been, I hope Caspian has stocked some form of mercy in the shape of a long-necked bottle.
“I’m glad you two are here. I have some business I want to discuss.” Caspian grinds out.
I ignore his statement, opting instead for a triumphant “Aha!”
He rolls his eyes, and I shrug while pouring myself a glass of Scotch.
“By the way, Cordelia is with Jasmine.”
The drink doesn’t even get a chance to touch my lips when he says that; it hovers as I contemplate his words. It’s late, but most soldiers have been off schedule due to time adjustments. So, which ones aren't in their room right now? I didn't hear anything in her room, so if they're not there, where are they? Who is she around?
“Oh, so that gets your attention?” Caspian shakes his head with a huff before continuing, “She needed company, and Jasmine is the closest thing to a friend she’s had since…”
Caspian trails off, and we glance at Moe. His shoulders tense, and his fist flexes by his side, but he slowly exhales and continues to study his cards.
“It’s good for both of them. Besides, they can probably find a solution to our problem since they are both from America and a better–”
“Bar since they’re in your room.” Moe slams his cards onto the bolted-down metal table with a growl, cutting off his brother's words.
“That's not what I was going to say,” Cas grumbles. Knowing where Jasmine is eases my tension, allowing me to take a drink and feel the alcohol burn down my throat. Their room is only two doors down from hers, and the one in between is Laura's, so she’ll be safe.
“We don’t even know if there is a problem, so what’s the point?” I grind out, slowly pacing around the room until I finally plop on a plush cushion that sinks under my weight.
“Well, I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that Depth and Bay were at each other’s throats, and there was a perfect opportunity for crime to expand on land when it wasn’t protected. Or perhaps they’re just gathering because rich people love to show off their money.”
“Fuckin hell, when did you learn how to talk like that?” Caspian beams as he leans over the side of the couch to pull out a drawer and grab a cigar.
“Sharkie already said it; I’m only repeating the information.” Moe clears his throat before continuing, “Higher societies have a hell of a lot of insight on governmental things–do you even watch TV? I’m sure there are plenty of double-sided cops or elected officials who get paid to give insights into our work. With that knowledge, all someone has to do is wait for a moment to appear where they could take action.”
Tide taps the buttons of his shirt and takes a deep drag of his cigar. It makes sense, and I’m fuckin’ proud Moe is finally showing the voice he keeps hidden.
“Bloody brilliant.” Caspian laughs, and I roll my eyes, trying not to crack a grin myself. It's still odd hearing the sound come from him.
“That simplifies things then. Find out when their last gathering was like this, and determine if any conflict followed. We can narrow the suspects by the guest list.” Caspian reaches for Moe's cards while Moe reaches for the laptop beside him. Our task should be simple enough. Moe smacks Caspian's hand, pulling my attention in his direction as I take another drink.
“They seem to do a regular gathering once a year. Nothing out of the ordinary happens in those time frames, but...” Moe trails off, studying the keys he's typing along.
“Moe,” I warn. My patience is fried right now, and I can't handle the long, drawn-out silence.
“So, during Chaos, Mafias created new cities in the US for them to reside. At the beginning of land and sea, an election was rigged.” Moe is wholly consumed on the screen as he connects crimes to the more significant events we have experienced.
Most soldiers have a specific specialty they stick to–coding, fighting, undercover assignments–but he's a lot like me. You can put anything in front of him, and he’ll learn that skill in seconds. I only started teaching him the technical stuff recently, and he’s already taking over that specialty like it’s his.
That reminds me to check my phone and scroll through Depth's security footage to ensure things are running smoothly. Everyone seems right on schedule, filing into their rooms, and even the one running things is doing fantastic. I never thought Caspian would trust someone from outside his faction, but I believe Sharkie was right to place this Rosalie woman in place.
“It's simple then.” I look up to Caspin leaning back against the cushion, stuffing his cigar out in the bolted metal tray. “They're getting intel on our actions and using our distractions as their openings.”
That would mean...
“There has to be a leak somewhere between our faction and Bay.” My jaw sets as Cas speaks, and the room goes quiet.
“That doesn't make any sense, though. They'd know we were traveling that way if that was the case. They wouldn't be bold enough to cause chaos when it's our job to stop it–” I raise the glass clenched in my fist, cutting Moe off. Have I been missing something?
“It’s nearly impossible. I monitor all activity. Any email sent, phone call, or text message through our servers goes through me. Like Moe said, they wouldn't be planning something now if that were the case.” I think out loud.
“So what? It’s just pure luck?” Caspian scoffs, pulls a laptop from Moe, and tosses it between us.
“Honestly, with as rich as they are, they have to be lucky in some way or another. Let's not jump to conclusions.” Moe says lightly, but I’m already pulling the computer into my lap and logging into our private databases. Doing a quick code, I look for transactions between anyone and America.
It comes up blank. Every. Time.
The closest thing I see is a few IPs linked through web searches for family members across the sea, but never any interactions. With a long, stressed breath, I push my hand through my hair and knock back the rest of my drink.
I didn't fail. I've done my job, and everything is in order.
Tossing the laptop onto the seat, I stand and set my glass on the table.
“Caspian?”
I turn as a finger pokes between my shoulder blades to find Sharkie rubbing her hand to her eye with a drunken giggle, but when she realizes I'm not him, her facial expression drops.
“Im fucking tired. Are you going to stand there gawking, or are you going to move so I can–” I cut off Sharkies slurred attempt of sternness by stepping to the side.
I raise a brow in Caspian's direction. ‘They can find a solution,’ my arse. It looks like the only thing they found was the gin.
“The breakfast date idea was smart, Sam. She seems more confident.” Sharkie says while running and jumping into Tides' arms.
“Did you two talk about anything we need to know?” I grumble instead of addressing the comment.
“Uh…” Sharkie trails off, her eyes fluttering shut as she leans her head into Caspian's chest, and he gives me a shrug. I don't stay to watch their public display of affection. I'm already on my way to check on Jasmine.
Logically, I know I physically saw the proof that I haven't looked over anything–I did my job–but I feel like the screams are creeping back in, threatening to take over. There are only two things that will keep my mind from spiraling: my little devil or taking a life.
Stopping in front of the large steel door, I try the handle, but it’s already locked; I pull out my phone and hack the system.
I need her.
The weight of the barrier groans beneath my palm, and I squint into the vast darkness. A small ray of light illuminates the water, cascading shimmering lines along the edge of the bed. I close the door gently, keeping my steps light as I approach Jasmine, lying sprawled on her stomach. Her arms are tucked beneath her head, and her hair falls over her face, unaware of the shadow crawling up her wall. The sheets are draped over her hips, and her sleep top exposes the length between her shoulder blades.
Even with her features innocent and relaxed, I can see the devil camouflaged by her skin.
It's not red and covered in blood like mine, but it's there in the most unholy ways. It's not the same sins of murder as my own; it's vanity and seduction making a heady combo when I imagine the hell we could create together.
It’s thrilling. Almost as exciting as the times I spent sneaking around dusty buildings for my next target—the feeling of being completely invisible, knowing someone is utterly oblivious to my presence.
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear like I was so desperate to do this morning. She doesn't budge, so I watch her pulse point. How would she react to waking up with me standing over her? Would her eyes go wide? Would she beg me to leave? Would she act like all my other victims?
Taking a deep breath, I step back and round the bed, examining her form and each rise and fall of her back.
It's such a tempting situation.
My hands brace on either side of her legs as I slowly move closer, tracing my lips over her smooth skin—skin that the scars of battle have never marked.
That’s fine; I’ll create our own war so she can wear our memories on her flesh.
She smells so fucking good that I have to bury my head in the crook of her neck, fully expecting her to squirm away or push me off. Instead, she lets out a sigh. Even when my teeth sink into her shoulder, she doesn’t pull back. Instead, her head tilts slightly, and a giggle escapes her, quickening my heartbeat as I drag my tongue over the sore spot.
“Sam?” Jasmine breathes out, and I slide my hand around her waist until it's on her abdomen, pulling her hips into the air and against my cock. It's a warning; I will ruin her in every way possible.
“Sam?” My name comes again, but my hands aren't dipping into the bed; they're pressing into a cold floor while water flows down a drain. I jerk my wrist, grappling for the body that was just below me. Instead of my fingers dipping into the soft skin, they're gripping chains linked to metal bottom. Beads of water drip from my hair to the ground, and I'm gasping for breath. Faces are blurred behind the glass enclosure, my vision is speckling with black spots, but I'm fucking fuming.
“See, boy, I told you it wouldn't be too bad. Are you mad?” Carlisle taunts, stepping forward and slamming an image against the barrier. The water is filling back up, encircling my knees, but I can't stand and run from it, so I steady my breathing, knowing I won't get air for long.
“These are the people you can blame for it.” He continues, and my brows furrow as I examine each secret military society leader, memorizing every feature of their face. Yes, they will pay for the hell I have to go through to get to them, but the one who sold me to this war is the one driving my motivation.
One day, he will see the beast he created.
The water goes over my head again, and I close my eyes, ready to suck in the liquid, and just give up, but instead of water filling my lungs, it’s smoke as I crouch without restraint.
A cigarette butt slowly burns out against the ground. Teeth marks encircle the filter, and the gurgled cough from below makes me wonder if he's coughing from the blood pooling in his lungs or from the years he’s spent inhaling these things.
“God damn it,” I mutter under my breath, pulling myself out of yet another hallucination as I slide into the chair by her bed. I run my hand through my hair, trying to steady myself. I need to keep her safe for my sanity; I need to prove I can do it. How can one person make me want to be better and so much worse simultaneously?
I don't know if keeping her safe from myself is an option anymore. The fine line between fake and real has blurred for me for so long now that our marriage has to stay consistent with one of those things, so I have some form of order.
She’s always been mine, and now it’s until death do us part—but even then, we’ll rule hell together.
I pull out my phone, knowing I won't sleep much, and run through American files, trying to find my first lead on her life. If I sit here listening to her soft breathing for long enough, I'll know I'm doing something right.